


i can tell you (the telling gets old)

by Muir_Wolf



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, let Sammy Stevens be happy 2k18, once again a fair amount of self-loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: Some days he just has to get out of King Falls, and he'll just get in his car and drive and drive and drive. He sets an alarm so he knows when he has to head back to get to the station in time, and he's too old to be going without sleep this often, but he's too young to lose the love of his goddamn life, so maybe it all evens out in the end.Set after Emily returns, and before Sammy makes the decision to stop.





	i can tell you (the telling gets old)

— 

It's cold, and Sammy shoves his hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunching a little against the wind. He's not sure where he is—some days he just has to get out of King Falls, and he'll just get in his car and drive and drive and drive. He sets an alarm so he knows when he has to head back to get to the station in time, and he's too old to be going without sleep this often, but he's too young to lose the love of his goddamn life, so maybe it all evens out in the end. Maybe someday he'll keep driving, except he'll never let Ben down, and he'll never let Jack go.

(Isn't he letting Jack go, though? Hasn't this all been a long, slow goodbye?)

He tries to stop in a new town every time. He finds the local coffee shop or diner, pokes through antique shops and bookstores and even wanders through general stores that are ramshackle and make him so lonely he hates himself even more.

It's not fair of him to miss Jack like this, because he never let Jack walk with him like this, did he? He wants to feel the echo of Jack's hand in his, but he never let Jack hold hands with him in public. There's nothing there to miss, is there? He wasn't willing to fight for Jack until it was already too late, and it kills him, it does, that maybe Jack doesn't know that he's ready to fight, that maybe Jack will never find out the lengths Sammy will go to be able to fight for Jack.

(He still hasn't told his _goddamn best friend_ , but he would've if Ben wasn't breaking over Emily, he would've if Ben wasn't tearing the world apart for Emily, he would've and would've and would've and _will._ He'll tell him. Ben will—hell, Ben will understand, because Ben's the type to forgive him all his sins, and he's got a lot. He's really only started understanding the count when he came here, when he lost Jack, when he started over with shaky hands and crescent moons in his palms.)

Sammy wonders, sometimes, if he's really changing, or if it's only that he's drifting further and further from Jack, if he's seeing himself distorted through time, and—

Except he's getting better, isn't he? It's not an act. He'd like to say that before was an act, that Shotgun was an act, and in a way it was, because they created the character between the two of them, created the bullshit asshole shock-jock persona because Sammy Stevens had to be a star, didn't he. He'd like to say it was an act, but he wore it for too long, and did too much damage with it. He's always been good at doing damage.

He's trying to get better at fixing things.

He's trying.

He wants to fix a lot. Too much, sometimes, sometimes it overwhelms him, hands and arms filled to overspilling, and none of it solved, and none of it fixed, and none of it done. Jack, and Emily, and Troy's firing, and Grisham's corruption, and Debbie and Perdition Woods and all of his sleepless days, all of his shaky nights, all the crying jags and then the smooth, smooth, smooth road sprawling out in front of him.

Sprawling out forever in front of him.

He left the coffee shop a while ago, and he's just been walking the length of the main street of whatever this town is, and if Jack were here he'd take his hand. If Jack were here he'd say he was ready. If Jack were here—

But Jack's not here, and he won't be here until Sammy figures out how to get him back. And he'll do it, because Jack has to know he's worth it, has to see that Sammy can be better, that he _wants_ to be better. That he got in a fistfight with a mayor and made friends that weren't just connections, that he says the right things most of the time, and tries to stop other people from saying the things he used to let trip pass his fucking tongue, that he's working on reparations.

That he's trying to make up for whatever sin it was that caused him to lose Jack.

Because he'd always known he wasn't worth much, but none of that had mattered when Jack was there, and it must have been his fault, right? If he'd been better earlier, if he'd—

If he'd been worth staying for? Jack would have stayed then, wouldn't he?

That's not even all of it, and some days it's not even most of it, because Ben looks at him like he's a good man, and Emily, when she remembers, remembers him kind, and he wants those things to be true.

Jack always believed the absolute best of him, and Sammy wants that to be true, too. Fistfights aside, brimming belief in the unbelievable aside, new friendships aside, everything else aside:

Jack had been the one to curl into his side when they got home from work, and he'd been the one to soothe the self-loathing out of Sammy's throat, and he'd been the one—the _only_ goddamn one in that entire city—who'd known Sammy's heart. (Who'd _had_ Sammy's heart.)

And hearts aside, Sammy knows he can never escape from who he was before, but Jack knew him then, and loved him then, and believed in him then. He was always ready to fight for Sammy, even against Sammy himself. _You can do bad, and still be a good person. You can be a fucking asshole, and still be loved._

It's not fair, is it, that Jack had to put up with that, love him through all of that, and not see him now. Not see how much better Sammy's trying to be. Not just for Jack, not just for Jack, because he hated himself long before Jack left, because he wanted to change long before Jack left.

But of course it's for Jack.

(He just wants to be good enough to deserve him.

He just wants to be enough for the universe to finally give Jack back to him.)

His phone alarm goes off. It's time to head back to King Falls.

He turns his feet back to his car, considers buying another coffee for the road since he's skipping sleep again, but he's too shaky for more caffeine, his heart too paper-thin to handle it.

He should've spent today looking for Jack, but he's worn out his leads, and he doesn't—

He'll figure it out, because he has to figure it out, because Jack needs him to figure out. He'll figure it out, because how can there be a world where Sammy doesn't get to show Jack that Jack was right all along?

He'll figure it out, because he has to, doesn't he?

Doesn't he have to figure it out?

Sammy gets in his car, and turns on the heat. His hand stutters momentarily as he shifts into drive. It's not right that he should feel trapped, because Jack's the one that's lost. Sammy's got all this sprawling road in front of him, doesn't he? All that sky above him.

He turns towards King Falls. Ben will be waiting, and Jack's already waited too long.

— 


End file.
